


I Want to Fight Like Lovers

by insufficientemotionalfunds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufficientemotionalfunds/pseuds/insufficientemotionalfunds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a hunt goes unexpectedly wrong, Dean finds himself face-to-face with the Castiel of three years ago—a Cas unburdened by the heavy guilt of his mistakes—and given the chance to fix one of his deepest regrets.<br/>"So… wanna know your future, Castiel?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want to Fight Like Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> The case is purposefully vague, because it's not the focus of the story.

Dean hit the ground painfully and rolled, greedily sucking in the air that had been forced out of his lungs by the impact.

Sam's frantic shout and Castiel's yell of his name were echoing in his ears, but they'd fallen silent. He opened his eyes worriedly, scrambling up and glancing around for his family.

"Sam!? _Cas!"_ he called, looking up and down the street with growing panic, and then, hesitantly, "Garth?"

He whirled frantically and stopped dead, staring at the driveway in front of him and the sign mounted on the fence next to it reading _Singer Salvage._

What the _hell?_ Two seconds ago he was in Albuquerque with Sam and Cas helping Garth bag a witch that was working way above her pay grade in the disappearing-people department.

He took a stuttering step forward, craning his neck to see the _intact_ and _not-a-smoldering-pile-of-rubble_ house hidden in the depths of the lot. A crinkling sound under his boot caught his attention and he reached down for the newspaper sitting at the side of the drive, still waiting to be picked up even though it was well after noon. _Wednesday, June 1_ _st_ _2011._

_Holy shit._

2011\. _June_ 2011\. Before Purgatory. Before Cas and God and Leviathans and—

The newspaper scattered to the winds as Dean took off at a dead sprint down the drive toward the house. He was pounding up the stairs of the porch, sending the door crashing into the wall, and sliding into the living room before he'd even really thought about what he was going to do.

"What the _hell?"_ Bobby growled, levering himself out of the chair in front of his desk and scowling at Dean. "What's the matter with you ya—"

Dean didn't give him a chance to complete his thought, catching hold of the older man's shoulder and yanking him forward into a bone-crushing hug. Bobby gave him about three seconds to fully wrap his mind around _Bobby being alive_ before he felt a sharp jab just below his elbow.

" _Ow!_ Son of a bitch! What the fuck?" He scrambled back and glared at the older hunter as Bobby studied him carefully before glancing down at the blood coating the very tip of his silver letter opener.

"You ain't a shifter," he grumbled, "What's your deal, boy? I thought you and Sam were working a vamp case? What're you doin' here?"

Dean mouthed at him wordlessly for a second, a thousand explanations flashing through his head. But this was _Bobby._ "I'm from 2014," he blurted out.

Bobby's eyebrows shot out of view under the bill of his ball cap. "Come again?"

"I'm from the future." He shifted uncomfortably as the other man gave him a thorough once-over, lingering on his hair long enough to make Dean wonder if maybe he was rocking some grays he hadn't noticed yet.

"O _kay,"_ Bobby said, not without a valid hint of suspicion, "How'd you get here?"

Dean rubbed at his neck uncomfortably. "Man, I dunno. We were hunting a witch—she was runnin' a pretty demon-y gig... making deals and claiming that she could solve your biggest regrets and charging damn good money for it. Every one of her vics just _disappeared_ … never heard from again. Garth—" Bobby snorted incredulously, but he at least sounded fond as he rolled his eyes. "—was workin' the case and he called us for backup. So Cas went in, angling to make the deal so we could track her down and find out how she was doing it. They were talking and she was saying something about how she'd give him a chance to fix everything, but if he failed there'd be consequences—like a terms and conditions statement or something. It looked like she was starting a spell, and Cas wasn't doing anything to stop her…." _Like he_ _ **wanted**_ _the deal._ Dean swallowed. Come to think of it, maybe Cas hadn't been the best fit for that role. "And I…" _panicked_ "tackled her. Then I was in your driveway."

Bobby snorted, rolling his eyes in exaggerated amazement. "Idjit. You tackled a witch _mid-spell?"_

Dean glared defensively. "She was gonna mojo Cas."

"Yeah. The _angel_ who can smite you by _blinking_. Well played, genius."

Dean grit his teeth. He wasn't about to let _anything_ touch his angel… Cas could take care of himself, yeah, but the point was he didn't _have_ to. Not anymore.

"How'd a witch send you back in time, anyway?" Bobby asked thoughtfully, "Thought only angels had that juice?"

The younger hunter shrugged. "Cas's mentioned a few relics or some shit that have that power… and I met Chronos once…." He grinned smugly as Bobby gaped at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he left something lying around. I just wanna know how that bitch could get hold of 'em."

"Dunno," Bobby muttered gruffly, already eyeing his bookshelf speculatively, "But it sounds like you got in the way of whatever she was gonna do to Cas. What better way to fix your past mistakes than to literally _go back_ and change them?"

Dean looked away sadly, gritting his teeth. _Cas' biggest regret._

"Wonder what he would've been back here to fix?" Bobby rambled as he started shuffling toward the books, research mode activated. "Something with this whole grudge match he's got goin' with Raphael?"

"Yeah…" Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth unhappily, _"Something."_

Bobby studied him over his shoulder, and Dean could see the sharp little cogs turning behind his eyes—replaying the hug… Dean's behavior since he'd arrived… and probably coming to some pretty accurate conclusions. "Well," he grunted, turning back to the shelf, "No use worrying about it now, right? Let's just work on getting you back so you can take care of things on your end."

"Yeah, sounds good." Dean nodded, brushing off the melancholy pointedly.

"Unless you wanna just call the Feathers from now and have _him_ zap you back?" Bobby asked shrewdly.

Dean shook his head. "He probably wouldn't even be able to. Whatever she's doing clashes with his mojo. He tried to track down a few of her first vics, but something was blocking him.... Probably something to do with 'em being out of synch with time, come to think of it."

Bobby snorted. "Swear, that kid's the worst _deus ex machina_ I ever heard of." He glanced at Dean searchingly. "Sure you don't want to call him anyway?" he pushed. "Might know _something."_

Dean swallowed, imagining what it'd be like to look into Cas' eyes without having to fight his way through the clouds of overwhelming guilt and horror—see his angel relatively light and unburdened again. "Nah…" He shook his head. That would probably just hurt more than anything. "Dude's busy."

The older hunter pursed his lips, studying him critically, but mercifully let the subject drop. He tossed Dean a couple of old, leather-bound books before selecting one of his own and heading for the desk.

* * *

Dean changed into the spare tee shirt and boxers from the duffel that he'd forgotten he used to keep at Bobby's and plopped down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

They'd been in full-on research mode for the rest of the afternoon and well into the night, pausing only when Bobby got a call from _his_ Dean (wow, awkward) for an update on how things were going with him and Sam. Bobby had finally sent him off to the guest room at 12:30am, saying that they'd get back on it the next morning.

He scrubbed at his face tiredly. Crap, he just wanted to go home. It was like salt in the wound to be back in this house before his world had slowly ended in bits and pieces of water and bullets. He just wanted to argue with Sam and— _God help him_ —cuddle with Cas as they watched a movie or something before bed. He missed his family. But part of his family was here and seeing Bobby again was just….

He threw back the covers, contemplating heading back downstairs and raiding Bobby's whiskey stash for a little sleep aid before a familiar flapping sound had him freezing half bent over the bed.

"Hello, Dean."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to see. Turning slowly, he slid his gaze up the angel's body starting with his feet, trying to delay looking at his face for as long as possible. "Hey, Cas."

Castiel fixed him with that familiar, soul-searching stare and he swallowed painfully. _Fuck_ , his eyes were _bright_.

"Wh-what's up?" Dean rasped uncertainly.

"Bobby called me," Cas muttered absently, tracing the lines of Dean's face curiously before flickering down over his chest, "He was hoping I might have a way to send you back to your time."

" _Motherfucker!"_ Dean spat, glaring at the door as though the older hunter would be hovering there mockingly. Cas frowned, a flash of hurt glinting in his eyes which he quickly covered up and Dean grimaced at the memory of just how often Cas'd had to do that this year. "Sorry," he growled, looking away, "I don't mean—'s just… I know you're busy. I shouldn't be whining at you for every little problem."

Cas shifted. "I'll always come if you need me, Dean," he said earnestly.

"I know." Dean sighed, shaking himself. He shouldn't be bitching at Cas like this… poor guy was all sorts of overwhelmed already, he really didn't need _another_ Dean causing him problems. "I know, Cas. Thanks."

A hint of a pleased smile tugged at the angel's lips, surprise sparking in his eyes and Dean just felt like more of an asshole. He just fuckin' _lit up_ over one little word that Dean really should've thrown into every conversation they'd ever had up to this point. God.

"I really don't deserve you, dude," he joked with a weak smile.

Cas looked a little taken aback at that, studying his face again like he was ready to start an exorcism or something.

"So…" Dean cleared his throat. "Long shot, but any chance you _can_ send me home?"

"No," Cas said unhappily, brow furrowing, "It seems that you're outside my sphere of influence. My powers can't touch you since you're not the Dean of this time. I… I don't even think I could heal you if it came down to it." He looked worried at the thought, eyes darting around the room like he thought Raphael was going to pop out of the woodwork and smite the shit out of Dean while he would be powerless to fix it.

"Hey, hey!" Dean called hastily, reaching out and gripping his elbow instinctively. "It's cool. I figured. Not your fault."

Cas gave him that searching look again and he really just wanted to punch his past self in the dick.

He fell back to slouch on the edge of the bed, dragging Cas over and jerking his head at the rumpled sheets next to him. "Sit down, man."

The angel did, folding his hands in his lap and glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

Dean grinned reassuringly at him and felt him shift a bit closer. "So. How're things? War's really taking it out of ya, huh? You look tired."

"Yes," Cas said hesitantly, "Things are difficult, the tide is turning in Raphael's favor and I'm starting to think—" He paused. "You don't want to know this."

"'Course I do. I'm worried about you." Dean frowned.

Cas reflected the expression. "You're very different," he oberved after a heavy pause.

Dean closed his eyes, mentally cursing the fact that Cas _ever_ found it weird for Dean to be concerned about his well-being. He knew that things had been strained between them, but _jeez,_ he hadn't remembered it being this bad... at least not yet. He looked over at the angel. Well… maybe he could give him a taste of what their relationship should— _would_ be like. He pulled on a smirk, purposely swaying forward and watching in amusement as the angel mirrored him without even noticing. "Good different or bad different?"

"Good," Cas said immediately, eyes drifting over Dean's face thoughtfully, "You seem… much more open."

The smirk softened into a gentle smile. "Yeah…. Amazing what a well-executed rewards system'll do for ya, huh? Guess old dogs _can_ learn new tricks." And _there_ was the head tilt. Dean chuckled fondly. "It's an old—"

"Adage, I know." Cas quirked an eyebrow. "I'm only wondering what could possibly make you so free with your emotions. You've always been very guarded."

Dean shrugged, scooting closer to his friend slightly. "Like I said… once I figured out what the sharing and caring _got_ me… pros outweighed the cons." He was definitely not above smoldering at the angel—knew exactly the effect it would have.

Except Cas hadn't discovered that particular facial expression and what inevitably followed yet. "Oh? What did it get you?"

Dean borrowed one of Sam's more potent bitchfaces. _"Really_ , dude? C'mon, take a guess."

He traced his hand over the bedspread between them in a seemingly aimless fashion, watching Castiel's face intently as the angel scoured his brain for something powerful enough to induce Dean's new-found tolerance for chick flick moments. Cas shrugged helplessly and shook his head.

Dean huffed out a quiet, affectionate laugh. " _You,_ dumbass." The wandering hand swooped around to brush his fingertips against Cas'.

Blue eyes widened and Cas opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get very far before it snapped shut again out of shock.

" _So…."_ Dean drawled, closing the final distance between them, so close that his breath caressed over Cas' lips as he spoke and the angel shivered, his pupils dilating dramatically and eyes nearly drifting shut in pure bliss. "Wanna know your future, Castiel?" One hand rose to cup the side of Cas' neck as he leaned forward to brush the tips of their noses together teasingly.

" _Yes._ Please," Cas breathed, staring hazily at Dean's mouth as his tongue darted out to wet his own.

The hunter mirrored the unconscious gesture much more purposefully, watching Cas' eyes darken further and listening to his breath hitch.

"Dean…."

He'd been planning _big—_ fully prepared to pull out all the stops and use every bit of hard-earned knowledge to blow the angel's friggin' mind—but that quiet, awe-filled whisper of his name served as a reminder of just who he was dealing with. This wasn't his Cas; well, it _was_ , because Cas was Cas was _his_ no matter where or _when_ he was…. But still, he could probably count on one hand the amount of times they had ever really _touched_ by this point in their timeline. He hadn't kissed this Castiel yet; hadn't worshipped him with an eager, hungry mouth… painstakingly taken him apart with lips and tongue… shattered him and then slowly pieced him back together.

And this was a Cas who, no matter how it ended, was single-handedly waging a _war._ He was fighting and bleeding and losing more and more of himself every day, and yet still came whenever Dean called. He always came—dropped everything to fly to his side. And Dean had never even said _"Hey, thanks Cas."_ Not _really._

So, no. _Big_ was much less important than—

He took Castiel's mouth lovingly; a soft, slow brush of lips that drew the angel unerringly in.

Cas slid into his arms like he'd been made to fit there, and if God hadn't ended up being the universe's epitome of _asshole,_ he maybe would've thought that was the case—not that he'd _ever_ admit that aloud, no matter _how_ touchy-feely Cas managed to make him sometimes.

Castiel's left hand glided across his back, fisting the neck of his tee shirt tightly, even as his right found its way up to Dean's shoulder and slid perfectly into place even though the mark was no longer visible. Dean shivered. _Damnit,_ he loved it when Cas did that. In retaliation, the fingers that had been curled around Cas' neck traced up across his jaw and the angel moaned when Dean gently dragged at his chin with a calloused thumb, prying his mouth open without resistance.

It was Cas who took advantage though, surging forward like he'd been waiting all of his unfathomably long existence for Dean to finally open up for him. He licked in with single-minded determination, seeking Dean's tongue and laying claim as though Dean hadn't been his from the moment the angel first laid hand on him in Hell.

Dean groaned, twisting and heaving himself up and over, straddling his friend's lap. He cupped the base of Castiel's skull in one hand, using the other to gently lift his chin and tilt his head back for better access. Cas scrambled for purchase, gripping at the hunter's hips with bruising force as Dean mapped the familiar territory of his mouth for the first time all over again.

Finally, Dean drew slowly back, dragging at the swollen flesh of Cas' bottom lip with his teeth as they parted. He butted their foreheads together gently, smiling when the angel refused to open his eyes. "'n' _that_ was just a sneak peek…." he mumbled around the little kisses he couldn't help but continue to dribble over Cas' lips.

Cas fucking _whimpered,_ his eyes flying open wildly _._ It was simultaneously the most heartbreaking and hottest sound Dean'd ever heard the angel make—and he'd heard a _lot._

" _When?"_ he rasped desperately, lunging forward to kiss the corner of Dean's mouth.

" _Damn_ , Cas." Dean grunted, turning into the needy press of lips trailing across his cheek. "You could have it fuckin' _tomorrow…_ or—y'know, whenever you see past me again… y'just have to _ask_ for it. Wanted you for _so long,_ baby… just never knew wh—" He gave in, reaching for a fistful of hair and guiding Castiel's mouth back up to his own.

Cas gathered him close, arms wrapping low around his back and dragging him in until they were pressed seamlessly together. "Really?" he asked breathlessly when Dean yanked away in favor of mouthing his way up the curve of Castiel's jaw.

"Mm _hmmm…."_ the hunter moaned in confirmation, his hands shoving roughly at the lapels of Castiel's coat without any real permission from the upstairs brain—'cause hell, he really hadn't been planning to let it go this far—Cas was fighting his way free of the fabric, yanking violently at the hem of Dean's shirt in turn—fuck, he'd only wanted to show the angel that maybe everything would be worth it… just give him a taste…. But goddamn Cas and his… _Casness—_ "You know me," he panted as Cas flung his tee shirt to the floor and dove immediately for the anti-possession tattoo, "Takes me a while… can never see what I've got right in front of me. Nothing gets through this skull without an Apocalypse to beat it in nice and bloody."

Cas stilled, his hot breath ghosting across Dean's skin tauntingly.

Dean moaned in frustration, his fist clenching in dark hair. "Wha—?" He was pushed gently back until he was perched on Castiel's knees and he swallowed uncertainly as those blue eyes darted evasively across his chest and stomach for a long moment before finally raising to his face. "Cas?"

"Not… the Apocalypse that I'm in the process of stopping right now?" Cas asked, his voice a pleading rumble.

"Cas…."

" _Please_ , Dean. Tell me that you don't get dragged into this."

Dean stared. He _wanted_ to. He wanted to tell his angel that _of course_ he stopped Raphael according to plan and his war never laid hand on the people he loved. Because he knew intimately what it looked like—how the weight of Purgatory and Leviathans and the destruction of Heaven sat on Cas' shoulders… how the guilt of Dean's grief and Sam's pain and Bobby's death colored Cas' eyes—and he _hated_ it. He would give anything for Cas to go untouched by that agony. But... he couldn't lie to him.

And he didn't even have to; the angel could hear his own failure screaming at him in Dean's silence. Ducking his head, he wordlessly shifted Dean off of him and turned his back, curling in on himself as everything he'd been working so hard for crashed down around him.

Dean rubbed a shaky hand over his swollen mouth as his eyes traced along the tense ridges of Castiel's shoulders, already beginning to sag with the weight of his future. It was something he should never have had to bear—at least not alone. His brow furrowed thoughtfully. But Cas _wasn't_ alone; he had three stubborn-ass humans ready and waiting to help carry the burden if only they knew how to offer.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he scooted up on the bed, maneuvering around until he was lined up behind the angel and pressing insistently into him. Cas stiffened as Dean stubbornly dragged him close, back to chest, and buried his face in the curve of his neck.

"You're gonna have to talk to me, sweetheart," he muttered. _Screw the future, the future sucked... mostly.  
_

Cas slumped helplessly. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I can't even begin to tell you—"

"No," Dean interrupted, rubbing his hand over Castiel's stomach soothingly, "Not _me_ me— _your_ me."

The angel jerked so violently that he probably would have toppled off the edge of the bed if not for Dean's thighs securely bracketing his hips. He stared over his shoulder at the hunter. "You can't be serious." Dean would have been offended by the complete incredulity in his voice if he didn't know for a fact that it was completely warranted. "Dean, we've barely spoken in months. And when we do—"

"I _know._ I was there, too, remember? I'm just sayin'—" He sighed, nuzzling his nose into Cas' neck and frowning. "Cas… I was really messed up. All the shit with Sam… and Ben and Lisa…. There was so much goin' on and you were never _around_ , man. You were always busy. And knowing what I know now…." He trailed off, swallowing unhappily. "I was scared, Cas. I spent months wondering if I was gonna have to put my baby brother down like a rabid dog or something if he started hurting people. I _really_ needed you. But you were pushing me away, so I started pushing back and by the time we found out about your deal with Crowley—"

Cas made a small, horrified noise deep in his throat, wrenching out of Dean's arms and backing away from the bed looking absolutely terrified. "Y-you…."

Dean held up his hands soothingly. "I ain't gonna lie. I—I'm not proud of the way I reacted…." He swallowed shamefully. "But, god _damnit,_ dude! Do you have any idea how much it hurt for you to go to that sack of shit for help and not me?"

"I was trying to protect you," Cas whispered thickly.

" _I fucking kn—"_ He took a shaky breath when the angel flinched away from his anger. "I _know_ , okay? I get it. But… I'm your—we're  _family,_ Cas.And the things that _happened_ —I just wish—"

"What things?" Castiel—and it suddenly _was_ Castiel… the warrior fighting for the fate of an entire world and not just Cas fighting for his family—stepped forward to tower over him, staring him down.

Dean shook his head. "Believe me, you don't wanna know. If you go to me now we can find some other way and none of it'll ever happen. You won't even have to worry about it."

"Dean." Cas sank to the floor between Dean's spread legs, hands hesitantly smoothing up his calves to grip his knees as he gazed up at him imploringly. "Please. I need to know. I _have_ to know the consequences of my actions."

The hunter pursed his lips despairingly, fingers tracing the curve of Cas' cheek. "I wanna protect you."

"It sounds like we're not very good at that, my love." He turned his face into the palm mournfully, eyes never leaving Dean's.

There was a long silence, before Dean sighed in concession.

"You broke Sam's wall."

Horror bled across Cas' face. He jerked away from Dean's hand and his own dropped to his sides as if burned.

Dean continued in a monotone, staring blindly over his friend's shoulder and reliving the memories as he told them. "You did it to distract us—to keep us out of the worst bit after we started nosing around. You _were_ gonna fix it… you promised you would. But… then you opened Purgatory and—" Cas didn't want to hear this. Dean could read his regret for pressing the issue in every line of that familiar face, but he stayed silent, waiting. "It was too much for you. You were so juiced… you got lost. Those souls were riding you around and…." Dean shuddered. "You were gone and we were stuck with this thing that looked like you and sounded like you but it was calling itself _God—"_

A painful-sounding hitching noise erupted from Castiel's throat and Dean focused on him as he bowed his head. Dean's hand twitched, moving to bury itself in dark hair and soothe him, but he stayed still.

"You iced Raphael and then got to work on Heaven. We had no idea what you were planning for Earth. I remember wishing that you'd just get it over with—just burn the world and be done with it. I wanted it to be over. Sam was dying and you were already gone and how was I supposed to do _anything_ without either of you?" He could feel the tears burning in his own eyes, but he swallowed them down forcefully. "It ended up being too much. You were burning too hot… you were gonna go nuclear and take everything with you. So you finally asked for help." Castiel's head jerked up, his eyes wide and red-rimmed as he met Dean's gaze. "You fought it off long enough for me 'n' Bobby to do the ritual to send the souls back to Purgatory. I think… I don't think you were planning to survive it. _Fuck,_ the way you looked at me…."

He reached out hesitantly, hand hovering palm-up between them, pleading wordlessly. Cas stared at it for a moment, torn, before shakily sliding his own into place, wrapping his fingers gently around Dean's wrist.

"But you woke up. You promised you'd make it up to me…. We were starting to head out and then you were just _gone. Again._ We'd sent all the souls back, but these things… Leviathans—" Cas' terrified hiss told him that he didn't really have to explain them. "They managed to stick around… took you over like fuckin' demons and just— _goddamn_ , Cas… your _eyes_. I thought you were dead. They told me you were _dead_ and I believed 'em 'cause I couldn't even find you in there anymore. They walked you out to this lake and just—I… Damnit, I lost you so many times in just a couple days." He fell silent, thinking back over what could arguably have been the worst year of his already shitty life.

The soft, hesitant squeeze of Castiel's fingers drew him back. "How can you kiss me the way you just did… after _that?"_ Cas couldn't face him, kept his eyes fixed on their clasped hands. "How can you even stand to look at me?"

Dean sighed. "It got really bad. You were dead. The Leviathans torched this place—" He kicked his foot out to encompass the room and thus Bobby's house in general and Cas flinched. "—and started hunting _us._ We couldn't even use the Impala 'cause she was too conspicuous or some shit. Sammy—he was goin' nuts. Without the wall, he was hallucinating all the time… I'd be talkin' to him and he'd just be staring at a corner where he was seeing fucking _Lucifer."_

Cas slumped, head dropping painfully against Dean's knee.

"I was—I was having nightmares… was tryin' to drink myself to death—tryin' t'convince myself I hated you, but I just missed you _so fucking much_. It kept getting _worse_ and then…." He could feel Cas tensing, waiting for the blow. Dean took a deep, steadying breath, feeling a pang shoot through his chest even just remembering it. "We lost Bobby."

The noise Cas made—a choked off moan of pure devastation—nearly broke his heart. The angel curled into his leg, clutching at his ankle with the hand not still grasped firmly in Dean's. He didn't say how Bobby had died… but the way Cas shook—actually fucking _trembled—_ against him suggested that he had an idea and the guilt was already latching viciously into him.

"So." He cleared his throat, voice rasping as he continued. "Bobby was gone…. It didn't really seem  _real._ I kinda just... went numb. It was too much, y'know? I'd lost my surrogate dad, my best friend... and Sam just kept getting worse and worse. He wasn't sleeping; it was killing him. I started looking for something— _anything_ that could fix him, and I found this faith healer, Emmanuel. Except he wasn't really a faith healer… he was straight-up doing _miracles._ It was my last shot, so I tracked him down, and—" He paused thoughtfully, wove his fingers into Castiel's hair and carded through it gently.

"Did he help?" Cas asked, voice muffled against the bare skin of Dean's thigh. "Was he able to fix what I broke?"

Something almost like a laugh bubbled up Dean's throat and he smiled stiffly. " _'Course_ he fixed it. He was _you."_ Cas didn't look up, but Dean could read his shock in the tiny twitch of his shoulders. He did laugh then—a dry, broken chuckle. "So I go find this dude and it's my freakin' angel looking back at me… and he doesn't even recognize me. Whatever the Leviathans did to you… you got a clean slate out of it. Bye Cas, hello Emmanuel. I'm pretty sure you looking at me and… not _knowing_ me—it was one of the worst things I've ever felt. I spent a whole day driving you back to Sam and I couldn't even really talk to you 'cause you had no idea who I was."

He glanced down, watching his fingers disappear into the mass of dark hair and reemerge with each slow stroke. A sardonic grin stretched his lips. "Y'know, I'm pretty sure this is the most I've ever said in one sitting? _Ever?"_

Cas made a noise that could have been anything from a laugh to the sound effect for his heart just giving out under the weight of all their combined angst.

"Hey, will you get up here? It's makin' me feel weird talking at you without seeing you."

Cas hesitated, but ultimately rose to stand stiffly before him, refusing to meet his gaze. Dean sighed, reaching out to grip the back of his thighs and pull him in, giving the angel just enough time to center himself as he twisted him around and dragged him down onto the mattress, laying him out awkwardly. He arranged them to lay on their sides facing each other, not even giving Cas the chance to avert his eyes before he was staring him down.

They were silent for a few long moments before Castiel finally shifted uncomfortably. "So?"

Dean half-shrugged. He knew it was unfair, but all the talk had pretty much drained out of him by this point. "You remembered everything after you had to do some spur-of-the-moment demon smiting. Turns out it was too late to fix the wall, so your solution for Sam ended up being to switch the crazy from him to you, so I lost you _again._ You went nuts and developed a thing for bees that was honestly a little creepy. We found a tablet that was kinda like a... Leviathan owner's manual or something, and only this kid Kevin could read it since it was the Word of God and he's the new prophet. It told us how to send the Leviathans packing, and you know our combined luck well enough to probably not be surprised that shuffling those dicks back to Purgatory got you 'n' me a one-way ticket on the same train. We were there for about a year. I—" He swallowed the words. Cas would never know the difference if he didn't really talk about what went down in Purgatory. Hopefully. "Well… anyway, we got out. And… now.... Well, business as usual, I guess," he finished lamely.

Cas looked dazed, which was at least better than completely shattered. He was quiet, mulling over Dean's story. Finally, he shook his head. "But… when, and more importantly _how,_ did we…?"

Dean ran his fingers lightly across Cas' forearm, skating over the fabric of his dress shirt. "Well, nothing really says 'you don't know what you have till it's gone' quite like thinking someone's dead about a million times over." He smiled wryly, but Castiel seemed unamused. He sighed. "Cas, every time I thought you were gone… I didn't think I could feel worse, and then I'd get you back for a second and lose you _again_ and it would just _hurt_ _**more** every time_. It… it put things in perspective, okay?"

"But… everything I did—"

It was actually kind of fun to show Cas all of the great things about being couple-y all over again. And interrupting his guilt trips with kisses had always been one of Dean's favorites. Cas whined into his mouth, kissing back with an air of urgent disbelief.

"Dude," Dean muttered after he broke away, "Me and my brother started an Apocalypse too, y'know. You didn't start this trend. I was practically Employee of the Month in Hell for a decade straight. Sam can list _being the fucking_ _ **devil**_ in the special skills section of his resumé. We don't really have room to judge."

Cas rolled onto his back with a frustrated grunt, closing his eyes. Dean watched him, marveling at how… _human_ the angel had been, even when still fully connected to Heaven.

"I'm an _angel,_ Dean," Cas growled, hands clenching into furious fists on his belly, "I don't have room for mistakes. I'm your _guardian_ and to hurt you—to hurt Bobby and _Sam_ in that way—"

"We pushed you into a corner. You were doin' the best you could."

"Don't defend me."

Dean frowned, shuffling across the mattress until he could lever himself up and hover over the angel. "Of course I'm defending you, dipshit. Haven't you been listening? I mean, yeah… what you did was pretty damn bad—you _still_ haven't stopped trying to _atone_ or whatever—but Cas… you were trying to help. What you're doing _right now…_ you're _trying to help_. You've just got too much goin' on. Raphael, Heaven, Crowley… me 'n' Sam 'n' Bobby… that's way too much for _anyone._ And you're trying so damn hard to make up for it in my time. It... Cas, it hurts to see you hate yourself so much, even though you're helping so many people." He traced the pad of his thumb mournfully over Castiel's lip. "So... maybe—maybe now that you know what's gonna happen—"

Cas flinched, visibly trying to sink into the mattress away from Dean, turning his head sharply to the side.

"Hey." Dean took hold of his chin with gentle fingers and the angel grudgingly allowed his face to be turned back to the hunter's. "You can stop it all—Sammy, _Bobby_ , the Leviathans…. Just… _don't open Purgatory."_

He swallowed, one hand coming up of its own volition to wrap warmly around Dean's wrist. "I can't fight Raphael alone. There's no other way, Dean... Don't you think if there was, I would've _found_ it by now? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to lie to you this way?"

"Then _stop._ Come clean with us. It won't be easy. I'm telling you now, I'm gonna be fucking _pissed…._ But… Cas, you're _not_ alone. If you'd just come to us for help… I would've done _anything_ to get you outta that. I know you think there's no other way, but we would've found one, we always do. I will _always_ find a way for you… you get me?"

"He's not _you_ , Dean. Not yet," Cas said sadly, "He's not going to understand."

"That is the most melodramatic thing you've ever said, and you're the goddamn _patron angel_ of melodrama." Dean laughed at his glare of genuine indignation. "It's also complete bullcrap. He _is_ me. Maybe he's not as far along as me, but we're still the same dude. He'd fight your war _for_ you _by **himself**_ if you just let him."

"Now who's the patron angel of melodrama?" Cas shot back snarkily.

The hunter grinned at him, lowering himself until he was blanketed comfortably over Castiel's chest and planting a too-quick peck on his full lips. He cupped the angel's cheek in his hand, thumb brushing gently back and forth across the skin just below his eye. "Touché. Still true, though." He sobered, catching Cas' gaze sternly. "Cas. I love you." The angel's eyes widened in a dizzying mixture of shock and hope. "I have for a long time… can't even really say for sure when it happened. So believe me… you can _make this right."_

Castiel stared at him. His lips were moving slowly, working through and discarding probably hundreds of possible responses before he took a deep, shuddering breath. His hands came up to frame Dean's face, pulling the hunter down until their foreheads just barely touched. Never breaking their eye contact, he tilted up to press a soft, lingering kiss to Dean's mouth. "Okay."

Dean's shoulders sagged as tension he hadn't even been aware of drained out of him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Cas combed his fingers back through light brown hair. "If there's one thing I should have faith in after everything we've been through… it's the Winchesters. I believe in you."

Dean closed his eyes reverently, pressing as close as he could without climbing into Cas' vessel right along with him.

"I love you, too."

The hunter smirked. "I know." He could practically _feel_ Cas' scowl.

"I _understood_ that reference," the angel growled playfully.

Dean chuckled. "Good for you, Leia."

He rolled bonelessly off of him, the fact that it was now well after two in the morning dragging insistently at his eyelids as he settled on his side. He squirmed for a second, feeling Cas' laser eyes burning into the back of his shoulder as he tried to get comfortable, before pointedly raising one arm in what he hoped was a blatant invitation. "Been a while since I had to fall asleep alone," he muttered groggily, "Dunno if I remember how to do it."

There was a quiet, amused huff of air, and then Cas was slowly, carefully sliding up against his back, weaving an arm under Dean's and draping it loosely over his waist. He nuzzled into Dean's shoulder with a content sigh, the tension bleeding out of him. "This… is nice…."

Dean smiled tiredly, finding Cas' hand on his stomach and tangling their fingers together lazily. "I know."

* * *

He woke up alone, which wasn't really unusual since Cas was always up and about before him back in his time.

There was a ray of early morning sunlight knifing through a crack in the blinds and shining right in his eye. He grimaced, nosing into the pillow in the hope that maybe he could fall back to sleep, but he was already awake. Sighing unhappily, he sat up with a bone-cracking stretch and glanced around—

The motel room.

He scrambled for his phone and the screen lit up to cheerfully inform him that it was 7:18am 05/14/2014. What the hell?

A rusty-sounding groan of pipes from the wall behind him preluded a rush of running water as Sam turned on the shower in the bathroom connecting their rooms and Dean dropped the phone into the folds of the sheets in favor of scrubbing his hands across his face.

Thursday morning, seven hours before they'd ambushed the witch and Dean got a free ride back to one of his darker memories.

No, seriously. What the _hell?_ Had that really happened or had it been some crazy intense dream? He shook his head. Stupid question. He was Dean Winchester, of course it'd happened.

If he had been affected by the witch's spell the same way the other victims seemed to have been, it stood to reason that he probably should've been stuck in the past without a way home. None of the other vics had reappeared. Unless…. He frowned thoughtfully. He'd popped back up hours before he was ever sent into the past in the first place. If that was what was _supposed_ to happen, the witch could've been zapping who knows how many poor schmucks backward and then redepositing them in the present before it even happened. So what had happened to the Dean from before the witch? If he'd taken that Dean's place, how could that Dean go back in time to end up here at all?

"Oh, god." His brain hurt. "I friggin' _hate_ time-travel."

But—goddamn time paradoxes aside—if that was what had been happening, why had some of the vics never reappeared?

He slumped over on the edge of the bed, massaging his fingers into his temples, thinking back to his first encounter with little miss Doctor Who wannabe. What was it she'd been saying to Cas before Dean'd tackled her?

" _You have regrets… I can give you the chance to fix it. But be warned that failure will bring about your own demise."_

Fix it.

He'd crash-landed a few weeks before everything went to Hell—been given a chance to _fix_ one of his biggest _regrets_ … to stop Cas from taking that final step over the edge to shove them all out of the frying pan and into the fire. Not _Cas'_ regret, but _his..._ or maybe both. Yeah, definitely both.

But… had it worked, then? _Failure will bring about your own demise._ What did _that_ mean? If he'd failed would he have been stuck? Forced to relive the thing he regretted most? Or was the punishment for failing death? Is that what had happened to the poor saps who'd disappeared? Did they just fade away?

Fuck.

So… if he was here, back in his own time… did that mean he'd changed his own future? Could that _really_ happen? Cas had told him years ago that you couldn't fight destiny; Zachariah had taught him that all roads led to the same destination—but they'd derailed _that_ future. It'd never happened. He was already _living_ this one, though. This wasn't his future, this was his _present._ Was it even possible to change that? Or… what if he'd given Cas a chance to fix things and he'd branched off some dream-come-true alternate reality or something? What had he changed? Had he changed anything at all?

It was too damn early for this.

He was rummaging through his duffel for his pants, head swimming, when that familiar flap of wings sounded behind him accompanied by the rich smell of coffee and eggs. He stilled, heart pounding.

 _Cas._ But which Cas?

"Good morning, Dean."

Guess he was about to find out.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath and turned to meet his future.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand that's it! That's all, folks! Open to interpretation! I know what I think happened... what do you think happened? Heheheh.
> 
> I was listening to Dread Sovereign by Shearwater pretty much non-stop while I wrote this, so that's where the title comes from. I dunno… it made sense in my head.
> 
> Finally got around to acquiring an account here (huzzah!) so I'm archiving my crap.


End file.
